Splitsville Review: A Revival of the Romantic Comedy

      Note: This review was initially published as part of our 2025 Cannes coverage. Splitsville is set to release in theaters on August 22.

      Michael Angelo Covino and Kyle Marvin have successfully avoided the typical sophomore decline. The duo, who became friends while acting alongside each other in a commercial 15 years ago, made their feature debut nine years later with the bro-themed bike comedy The Climb. They continue to write, produce, and star in their films with a vibrant, cohesive voice. Under Covino's direction, there is a comprehensive sense of artistry, comedic sharpness, and creative authority, particularly evident in their latest romcom, Splitsville, which breathes new life into a currently stagnant subgenre.

      The film opens during a road trip where two individuals are engaged in a singing session, their painfully poor vocals indicating their comfort with one another. A year into their marriage, Carey (Marvin) and Ashley (Adria Arjona) appear to be a perfect couple—until Carey suggests pottery lessons. “You said you wanted to try new things…?” he pleads. “I meant sexually,” she retorts without hesitation. Despite this, she attempts to lighten the mood: “Hand or mouth?” she asks. “Uh, hand’s fine,” Carey responds nervously, hinting at their fractured romance. In no time, she succumbs to her desires and verbally initiates a divorce.

      Then, unexpectedly—like a dramatic twist in a film’s third act—a stunning car accident occurs, which swiftly transitions into witty banter about who is accountable for changing the ABCs or CABs of official CPR policy, all while mid-chest-press on a deceased woman. Amidst the dark comedic turmoil, one of the film’s standout moments ensues: a humorous joke that triggers Carey to bolt through the woods and manicured yards of the Hamptons, desperately seeking distance from Ashley. Dabney Morris and David Wingo’s bass-heavy score plays vibrantly and powerfully as the title card glows in a hazy orange while Carey races across a gray-green field akin to Freddie Quell in The Master.

      Dirtied and tangled in foliage, Carey ultimately reaches the backyard of Julie (Dakota Johnson) and her best friend Paul’s (Covino) stunning coastal home. Earlier, Ashley had dropped off his belongings. As they try to console their friend, Julie and Paul explain their open relationship, where they sleep with others without questions, establishing the film’s main scenario: what occurs when your best friend sleeps with your wife, assuming it's “okay”?

      What follows is a wildly exaggerated fight sequence, meticulously choreographed like a Bourne film. Lasting ten minutes, it includes an outrageous fish-saving scenario (not the only one in the film!), underwater combat, and a variety of wrestling maneuvers called out in real time. The subsequent narrative becomes a delightful and unpredictable roller coaster—sometimes literally—of hilarious, self-deprecating investigations into open relationships, typically placing the bumbling men at the mercy of their beautiful, relatively unfazed wives.

      Marvin and Covino have undoubtedly carved a unique niche early in their careers. While Covino has pursued acting more fervently than Marvin, appearing in the Oscar-nominated News of the World and the star-studded flop Riff Raff, Marvin secured a crucial supporting role in the Apple TV+ miniseries WeCrashed and embarked on his directorial journey with 80 for Brady. Together, they craft sharp, fast-paced buddy comedies that highlight their exceptional comedic chemistry and timing. Their relatable, down-to-earth humor—characterized by reckless antics—hints at the emergence of a new comedic style reminiscent of Wes Anderson's distinctively dry indie tone from the '90s.

      Covino and Marvin portray their leads with characteristics that are uniquely their own. Marvin’s character typically embodies a hapless, lovable fool with a hint of resilience, a whiny voice, and a disarmingly lackadaisical charm. In contrast, Covino portrays a self-assured, expressionless man who seemingly has it all yet lacks the appreciation for it. Both characters, in their ways, represent unrefined man-children hurtling toward a blaze of unexpressed emotions.

      Rooted in the duo’s sense of humor—bringing out memorable moments from, most notably, lover-turned-roommate Jackson (Charlie Gillespie) and the tear-jerking film Lorenzo’s Oil (perhaps humorously chosen for a group of grieving men)—Splitsville is packed with quotable one-liners and hilarious scenes that make it ideal for repeat viewings. For instance, one character asks if a Superhost is “an Airbnb slumlord” or tries to reference Vanilla Sky during a serious moment, only for the other person to recognize the quote. Another scene showcases a middle-schooler about to be expelled, dismissively explaining that the education system is flawed due to Rockefeller